In a pitch-dark cave, in the claw of a wounded dragon, a burned contract, once written in blue, is desperately held. And all that is left, is to ruminate on the past.  

Oh England has made a mess once again and therefore Europe is in deep mourning. Portugal’s once bright sun fades – it becomes hazy and weak. Therefore Spain, Germany and Holland cannot build their future on firm ground anymore.

Italy has also finished digging her own grave and therefore it is of no use to her to blame the Vatican. Greece’s weak economy was never successfully restored and therefore the European Union will deeply regret this.

Like a cheap peacock, France always liked to show off. But look, in her future there is just disgrace upon disgrace. So the entire West has firmly trusted in her European Union.

Look, in oath they vowed loyalty and trust to each other. But with the West just an age-old widowed woman now, she is standing dressed in black crape, to mourn her dead husband, yes to mourn England’s treason until her death bed.